


Mutually Assured Naptime

by ros3bud009



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Are Ratchet and Starscream reluctant friends? potential lovers?, But again: they don't, Drunkenness, Injury Recovery, Kinda, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sickfic, Swearing, Who knows all i know is sometimes they talk about fragging but then don't, mentions of interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26866084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: “So you’re going to sit on me?”“That’s what it’s come to, yes.”
Relationships: Ratchet/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	Mutually Assured Naptime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neveralarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/gifts).



> Sooooo somehow this idea came about while talking with Neveralarch over on twitter, and, well
> 
> Who knew THIS, of ALL THINGS, would be the first thing I managed to write since the pandemic happened that's broken 2k words
> 
> Apparently writing machine broke except for these two badgering each other incessantly in a vague handwavey post-peace-treaty idk don't-think-too-hard-about-it context
> 
> Anyway!!!! I hope y'all like it, that maybe it brings a little brightness to your day, and if you're in the USA: please vote kthx

“Yes, yes, brush with deactivation, everyone was very worried, I’ll be more careful in the future I’m sure,” Starscream said with a dismissive wave of his servo. “Now if we’re done here, be a good medic and reactivate my legs.”

The light of Ratchet’s optics narrowed.

“And what, exactly, do you think you’ll be doing with those legs?”

“Surely I don’t need to explain what legs are typically used for.”

“Then by that same point _I_ don’t have to explain why I’m not reactivating them for you.” Ratchet brandished the datapad in his servo like an attorney might in a trial. “I have Hook’s records on you so I’m fully aware of your tendency for slipping out without a clean bill of health.”

Starscream tsked as he moved to cross his arms over his cockpit. However, it was far too tender from the hackneyed welding job they had finished on it just an hour prior. That traitorous bastard and his gestalt needed to get that replacement cockpit finished and soon if he expected Starscream to ever forgive him for this medical betrayal.

“In that case, I don’t need to explain that it’s pointless to try and stop me. I couldn’t be held captive by a gestalt of six, so I certainly won’t by a one measly Autobot.” In what he hoped was a smooth motion, Starscream redirected his arms to behind his helm instead, lounging back on the medbay berth with casual ease. Truthfully it pulled at his frame, adding a sharp agonizing pain to the general low levels of aching. It would be alright though. He’d let the pain patch actually access his sensory net once he was out of this sanitized hell. “So save us both some strife, hm?”

Ratchet did not look impressed.

“You just got out of surgery.”

“I feel right as rain.”

“A surgery for a life-threatening injury.”

“Aren’t all injuries at risk for becoming life-threatening?”

“You took a shot to the chest.”

“That’s what battle grade armor is for.”

“From a _fusion cannon_ that went in one side of you and out the other.” Before Starscream could make his retort, Ratchet had the audacity to slap his servo across his mouth and continue, “If that hole in your frame had been so much as a couple inches in any other direction on your frame, you would have deactivated. The only difference the direction would have made was in how long you would have had to contemplate your life before it was snuffed out.”

Alright, fine. So that did make Starscream’s exhausted spark pulse a little faster.

(But what was one more twinge when his whole frame felt like it was on fire. Starscream had long found there was an odd calm that came from just accepting the pain.)

“I don’t see why I should be the one punished then,” Starscream grumbled against Ratchet’s palm. With an exasperated sigh, Ratchet removed his servo.

“The argument could be made that you need to not sneak up on tetchy warlords a mere month into peacetime when everyone is still very much on edge,” Ratchet said, servos bracing on his hips. “But for the record, Megatron is facing the same punishment that anyone would for friendly fire.”

Now _that_ was interesting.

“You locked up his fusion cannon? And he _let_ you?”

“From what I’ve heard, ‘let’ is a strong word for it. Couldn’t tell you the details since I was busy here elbow deep in your spark chamber.”

“I’ll have Thundercracker tell me the details once I’m back in my quarters. Now, if that was all--”

Without warning, Ratchet’s servo slapped down on his pelvis and with some sort of localized shockwave short-circuited his motor net from the hips down.

“What the _frag_ do you think you’re _doing_?!”

“You’ve taught yourself how to override medical blocks.”

As quick as Starscream had pulled his scandalized outrage around himself he let it drop.

“I didn’t think Hook had figured that out.”

“He hasn’t. I had a hunch given your history of disappearing acts and now I have confirmation.” Ratchet stepped back and looked at his datapad, the picture of nonchalance. “That localized EMP will wear off in about an hour. If you want to avoid future administrations, I suggest you listen to this measly Autobot and wait until I discharge you.”

Starscream ground his dentae together.

“And how long will that be, _doctor_?” he asked, sickly sweet and bitter at once.

“One week at the shortest, though I’d guess closer to two since the recovery from this surgery will be compounded by the one we’ll need to do in a couple days to install your new parts,” Ratchet replied without so much as looking up. “Consider it a break. Frag knows you need one. And by the Allspark, would you let that pain patch take hold already?”

There was a moment of silence as Starscream reset his optics, audials, and vocalizer for good measure.

And then—

“ ** _A BREAK?!_** ”

* * *

“I should have let him deactivate,” Ratchet grumbled none too quietly. First Aid knew he was exaggerating, though the way Starscream could be heard through the walls shouting, “I MEAN, _SOUNDWAVE_?! MY REPLACEMENT?! THOSE TINY MONGROLS OF HIS HAVE BROKEN HIS BACK AND LEFT HIM SPINELESS! HE CAN’T FILL MY SPOT--!” was about enough to drive anyone to medical negligence.

“You’re too nice for that.”

“—HE’D LET MEGATRON PISS ALL OVER THIS PEACE TREATY IF HE WANTED--”

“Unfortunately.”

“But you know, speaking of taking breaks…”

Ratchet ex-vented long and low.

“I’m fine.”

“—DOES NO ONE CARE THAT I SOMETIMES ACTUALLY _LISTEN_ TO YOUR PRIME? I’M IMPORTANT, DAMMIT!”

“Go. Rest for once. How else are you gonna get enough charge back in your frame in time for the party?”

“That’s a month away. Besides, I don’t need recharge to party.”

“I CAN’T JUST BE LAID OUT ON MY BACK FOR A WHOLE WEEK! WE’LL ALL BE DEAD BY THE TIME YOU FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE AND IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT!”

“You’re gonna be on that slab yourself before you know it.”

“I know my limits.”

“PRIMUS FRAGGING DAMMIT, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?”

“If you took a break, you wouldn’t have to listen to this anymore.”

“Tempting. But I can just knock him out if I reach my limit on pitslag.”

“LISTEN TO ME, DAMMIT!!”

“Two peas in a pod.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

“What?” Starscream sneered as Ratchet stood in the doorway, servos on hips, staring at him like someone looking at a puzzle they were about ready to throw at the wall and give up on.

Ratchet pursed his lips.

“We’ve tried localized EMPs. Full frame EMPs. Magnetized berth. Strapping you down to the damned slab with physical restraints. All of them. Every single physical restraint we have.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Ratchet _was_ ready to give up.

Thank Primus. While waking up from the second surgery hadn’t been nearly so awful, Starscream desperately wanted to go curl up in his own berth. A couple hours of lousy recharge and some extra-charged energon could get him through the meeting that was scheduled for beta shift.

And sure, he only knew about the meeting because he had blackmailed a copy of the schedule from Frenzy. Starscream wasn’t expected for it.

But he needed to be there to catch up on what he’d missed, to _fix_ what had no doubt happened in his lapse. Nearly five days had passed in his absence, and the sheer multitudes of things that could have happened that he didn’t know about, that he hadn’t been there to see and deflect and opine on--

Starscream tried hard not to sound victorious as he said, “I don’t want to say I told you so, doctor, but I _did_ say so. I’m a hard mech to keep down.”

One of Ratchet’s servos lifted to rub at his face.

“I put you into a medically induced coma. You woke yourself up from a _medically induced coma._ ”

“What, like it’s hard?”

The frustrated rev of Ratchet’s engine from the doorway was delicious.

“Fine,” Ratchet said, and then threw up his servos as he spat out another, “fine!”

“Oh, no worries, doctor. I won’t make you say you were wrong. Just move out of the way and we can both be on our—what are you doing? What—Ratchet?!”

Starscream rebooted his optics, but unfortunately they were working just fine. Ratchet had, indeed, stomped across the room and was now mounting the berth and—

“Oomph!”

—and thoughtlessly dropping his aft down onto Starscream’s thighs, pinning him to the berth with his weight.

“What are you doing?!”

“What I should have done from the beginning,” Ratchet replied as he crossed his arms across his chest, looking none too much happier than Starscream about his position. “Sometimes when you need a job done right, you have to just do it yourself. And in this case, if you keep fragging breaking your way out of every restraint I put on you, then fine. Fine!”

Starscream stared at him as his jaw slowly but surely dropped.

“So you’re going to _sit on me_?”

“That’s what it’s come to, yes.”

A minute passed then in which Ratchet glowered at the wall above Starscream’s helm.

“You’re serious.”

“Damn straight.”

Another minute passed. Starscream lifted his servos that he had draped across his middle just below his cockpit and let them daintily rest on Ratchet’s thighs.

“If you’re interested, Ratchet, that’s perfectly fine. Understandable really, given how beautiful I am. Give me a couple of days and I’m sure I’ll be able to—”

“Ugh,” Ratchet interrupted, lifting the knee he’d thrown over Starscream’s hip and settling his aft back down, thighs together, his body now perpendicular to Starscream’s.

Starscream couldn’t quite hold back the whine when Ratchet’s weight briefly shifted him into just the wrong position for a couple seconds, pulling at his aching welds.

Finally Ratchet met his optics again.

“Would it kill you to let the pain patch do its job?”

Starscream pursed his lips.

“It’s harder to get around when your sensory net is offline.”

Ratchet huffed with a roll of his optics before looking away again, gaze meeting the door.

“Well, you’re sure as slag not getting around now, so might as well try to enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it more if you straddled me again.”

“Ugh,” Ratchet complained, his face scrunched up in a grimace. “You’re not fragging yourself out of this, Starscream.”

“Pity. I’d heard from the gossip around the ship you were a pretty easy lay.”

“This may come as a surprise, but being intimately aware of what a complete medical wreck your frame is puts a damper on any desire to frag you.”

“Who said I would be the one being fragged?”

“Starscream.”

“Ratchet?”

“Stop pretending to seduce me and let the damn pain patch through your firewalls.”

Starscream narrowed his optics at the side of Ratchet’s helm.

“You’re actually serious. You’re just going to sit here.”

“For as long as it takes.” Ratchet glanced back at Starscream, and for once since this whole thing started, something like a smile tugged at his lips. It was odd how much it took Starscream aback – when he wasn’t the medic’s unwitting patient, he had seen Ratchet smile plenty. Like most Autobots, he was quick to smile and laugh, though his humor occasionally dipped crueler than the rest.

And, unlike the rest, he didn’t reserve his smiles for only his fellow Autobots.

Perhaps it just went to show how long Starscream had been stuck here that he forgot how nice of a smile it was.

“Stubborn aft,” Starscream grumbled, even as he finally let his firewalls down. And oh, yes, alright, it was an incredibly soothing wave of relief, washing away the aches and pains as it spread out through his frame.

“Takes one to know one.”

An unexpected effect of the pain finally letting up after days of agony was that Starscream was, all at once, horribly aware of how tired he was. Was it his own exhaustion catching up with him? Had Ratchet slipped something in with the pain patch to make him drowsy? Starscream tried in vain to decipher the data as it dripped into his processor but found the fog of imminent shutdown too much to slog through.

“This isn’t over.”

“Whatever helps you recharge.”

Whether it did or not didn’t make much of a difference as Starscream slipped into recharge regardless.

* * *

“Are you still working?” First Aid asked the second Ratchet answered his comm. Not that he didn’t already have a guess since Ratchet was still logged into the medbay systems. His mentor wasn’t known for being forgetful.

Well, except when it came to the time his shift ended.

There was a pause before finally, slowly, Ratchet responded, “Yes and no.”

“Ratchet, your shift ended two hours ago.”

“I’m aware of that. And I’m not working. But also not… not working.”

First Aid tipped his helm to one side, the tools he was disinfecting forgotten in his servos.

“What?”

Even across their comms, First Aid would swear he could hear Ratchet grumbling to himself.

“I’m sitting on Starscream.”

First Aid tipped his helm to the other side.

“Excuse me.”

There was an even longer pause.

“I’m sitting. On Starscream.”

“You’re sitting on Starscream.”

“Yes.”

“Like… literally?”

“He woke himself up from the medically induced coma, which was my last good idea,” Ratchet explained, as if he was talking sense, “so I may have had a bad idea that I’m regretting.”

“Uh huh,” First Aid said, as if he understood. “So you sat on him.”

“I sat on him.”

“And now you’re stuck there because…?”

“He finally gave up and let the pain patch take. I’ve never seen him recharge so well.”

First Aid made absolutely sure he muted his comm before letting a snorting laugh out.

That absolute softie.

“Are you at least reading something that’s not job related while babysitting the big bad Con?”

“If you must know, I’m catching up on some personal reading. So there. Stop worrying.”

“Whatever you say, Ratchet. Just make sure to catch some recharge yourself, would you?”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

* * *

Starscream couldn’t remember the first few times he'd roused from recharge very well. It was all rather hazy, with optics unwilling to fully focus and processer unwilling to boot up to full power. Apparently his traitorous frame saw the opportunity presented and was taking full advantage, unwilling to allow him consciousness for more than a minute or two before dragging him back under.

Stupid, idiotic frames and their stupid, idiotic needs.

All Starscream could remember was the vague shape and weight of Ratchet still sat on him, looking down at a datapad or quietly talking over comms to parties unknown to Starscream or just sitting there.

Stupid, idiotic Ratchet.

But the idea of trying to fight his way out from under the pigheaded medic was so overwhelmingly exhausting that frame kept winning out over indignation and Starscream would slip back into recharge.

By the time Starscream woke up and actually felt awake and alert, it had been well over a day, nearly at the point it could have been considered two. Two whole days! So much time wasted on recharge of all pointless things!

However, there was a silver lining: Starscream did feel better. Much better. So much better in fact that he was quite sure he could wrestle his way out from under his captor and make his escape for freedom if Ratchet still tried to argue with him.

Starscream pushed up onto his elbows to see over his cockpit better, saying chipperly, “Well, well, good morning, doctor. Perhaps it’s time we discussed that bill of clean health?”

Ratchet didn’t so much as glance over at him. Starscream patiently waited three whole seconds before pushing up onto the palms of his servos.

“The silent treatment? Really? Hardly very professional, but I suppose that was already thrown out the window when you sat on an important patient, hm?”

Still nothing.

Starscream rebooted his audials and vocalizer. No, he had definitely spoken aloud, so there was no reason for the medic to not hear him.

“Ratchet?”

There was a very small hiccup of Ratchet’s vents, a quick in-vent, and then a low, slow exvent.

It was then that Starscream noticed that Ratchet’s optics were offline.

Starscream carefully sat up further, craning to one side to get a better look. And, as he had started to suspect, Ratchet was out like a light. His ventilations were slow and even and his face was slack, mouth ever so slightly agape. He looked, well… peaceful.

This time when Starscream’s sparkrate quickened, it wasn't out of existential dread and it didn’t hurt. It just left him conflicted.

Because damn if the bane of his existence wasn’t rather cute in recharge.

“You really are the pitspawn of Unicron,” Starscream grumbled to himself, but quieter than before.

Starscream shifted his weight to one servo so he could reach up and poke at Ratchet’s cheek. At first there was no response, but by the fourth poke Ratchet let out a small, miffed little noise, not unlike a whine. When Starscream pulled his servo away and waited, Ratchet’s helm sunk down a bit more towards his own chest with a pleased sleepy sigh.

Ugh.

Stupid, idiotic, _adorable_ Ratchet.

“Disgusting,” Starscream sneered as he placed a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder and shoved.

Finally the medic jolted online, his frame flailing as he just barely managed to keep from falling over sideways onto Starscream’s legs. Ratchet’s vocalizer onlined fast enough though, spitting out a series of colorful curses.

Which was funny in an oddly endearing way.

“Sleeping on the job, hm?”

Ratchet whipped his helm around to Starscream, his optics overbright, and Starscream would swear he could feel the heat radiating from Ratchet's face from the scarce distance between them.

“What… what time is it?” Ratchet asked dumbly, which was a new recharge-addled side of him that Starscream was, perhaps cruelly so, delighted to see.

“Halfway through gamma shift if my internal clock is still ticking correctly.”

Ratchet’s gaze drifted from Starscream’s, presumably checking his own.

“Frag,” Ratchet ex-vented, then louder, “frag!”

Ratchet practically leapt up and off of Starscream, swearing again when the datapad that had been forgotten in his lap was sent flying, bouncing against the wall and sliding along the floor and, from what Starscream could see, ending up somewhere under his berth. Ratchet’s servos fisted and released as his engine revved angrily before he went down on his servos and knees to get it.

“Sooo, am I free to go?”

Ratchet sat back on his heels to shoot Starscream the deadliest of glares.

“Stay here,” he ordered, brandishing the retrieved datapad like a projectile he’d love to throw in Starscream’s face.

And Starscream smiled wide and bright.

Ratchet’s frown somehow managed to deepen further as his optics narrowed.

“I mean it.”

“Mhm.”

“Just, for once, stay here while I check in with First Aid. Then I’ll come back.”

“Is that right? Well, if you mean it and promise you’ll come back after time has passed in which I’m left alone, who am I to argue?”

Ratchet’s mouth opened, but after a couple of seconds in which nothing managed to come out, he snapped it shut again and got to his pedes.

“No rush, Ratchet! Take all the time you want!” Starscream cooed at Ratchet’s back as the medic started to make his retreat out the door. Once halfway out though, he stopped again and looked over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna be right here outside the door, so don’t even try sneaking off.”

“I would never,” Starscream replied, bracing one arm on the other so he could rest his chin on his servo, tapping his digit on his cheek. “The door is far too obvious.”

Ratchet half turned, scanning the room suspiciously.

“You can’t fit in that vent.”

“No, of course not,” Starscream agreed too easily.

With a final growl of his engine, Ratchet slammed the door behind him, finally leaving Starscream alone.

And alright. Maybe Starscream chuckled.

“Can’t even remember the last time I was in a good mood,” Starscream murmured to himself as he laid back out on the berth and stretched. Still sore, and his new parts weren’t finished integrating, but it was all so much better than before.

Who would have guessed?

* * *

“I call it MAN,” First Aid said as he led Optimus and Megatron through the medbay. He looked over at Megatron more specifically as he further explained, “It’s based on a human term, MAD or Mutually Assured Destruction.”

“I’m aware my Second can make a nuisance of himself in a medbay, but hadn’t realized the situation had gotten so dire.”

“Oh, it’s not,” First Aid reassured with a wave of his servo. “If anything I’d say its been surprisingly beneficial for them both.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Optimus admitted, stopping to one side of First Aid as they had arrived at the main medbay computer station.

“Well,” First Aid started, plugging into the station and within seconds pulling up the feed from Starscream’s room, “in this case it’s not destruction they’re mutually assuring.”

First Aid felt both of the massive mechs’ optics on him, but it was brief before they no doubt moved to the camera footage.

Specifically, to the Decepticon SIC with the Autobot CMO sat on top of him, both soundly in recharge and looking all the sweeter for it.

There was a stunned silence before First Aid gestured towards the screen.

“For the last week they’ve been tricking each other into recharging more than I think either of them had been before.”

“Ah,” Optimus said, a smile tinting his voice. “Naptime.”

“Exactly.”

Megatron seemed less amused, though First Aid suspected that it was possible ‘naptime’ didn’t translate to the Decepticon leader. “How much longer until Starscream has recovered?”

“Oh, he’s good to go as soon as he wakes up.”

“Then why not wake him?”

“When’s the last time either of you saw either of _them_ so peaceful?”

First Aid turned to watch as Optimus and Megatron shared a look.

“A fair point,” Megatron conceded.

“Very well,” Optimus agreed, looking back down at First Aid with a twinkle in his optics. “Notify us once ‘naptime’ is over, will you?”

* * *

It took two weeks to finally get caught up on everything and get all his plots back on track, but finally Starscream felt the tension in his wings start to ease. Things were sailing smoothly with the alliance and the continuing discussions of what would happen once they reached Cybertron.

Which meant Starscream could finally relax.

With some weapon making.

Megatron was a mere week away from finally having access to his fusion cannon again – and yes, _fine_ , there were still restrictions and the like, but Starscream couldn’t trust that big oaf to follow the fine print – and Starscream wanted nothing more than to have his own comparably powerful weapon before that happened. It was incredible knowing he had more firepower on him than Megatron, and Starscream had no intensions to let that feeling go.

It helped that Thundercracker and Skywarp were occupied for the evening. They had been _so_ clingy and irritable since Starscream’s release, sweet when he could spare them a moment and wildly bitter when he returned to work.

Which, given how much work there was to do, meant they were almost always underpede and angry about it.

But that ridiculous party would keep them busy.

Well, mostly. Like clockwork, a ping from Thundercracker to remember to recharge came, and was just as summarily dismissed.

Like he had any footing to stand on considering he was out getting drunk with Autobots.

Though, apparently Starscream couldn’t be saved from a similar fate when, not ten minutes later, his door opened to reveal Ratchet.

Without his permission.

“How the frag did you get in here?” Starscream hissed as he turned in his chair to glare daggers. It was only a half-turn though – didn’t want the Autobot to think Starscream was actually threatened by him. Just wildly inconvenienced.

Which was perhaps too much thought put in considering Ratchet didn’t react with even an iota of self-consciousness or regret.

If anything, he grinned a little slag eating grin as he replied simply, “Medic overrides.”

Starscream looked Ratchet over, and yes, all signs pointed towards overcharge. _Very_ overcharged. Ratchet’s pretty blue optics were nearly blinding even from across the room, and there was a gentle sway of his frame from one pede to the other.

“Being overcharged doesn’t excuse you from abuses of power.”

“There’s no way I’m the only one in this room who’s broken into rooms he shouldn’t be while absolutely tanked.”

Well.

Starscream shrugged.

“Fine. _Why_ the frag are you in here?”

“Thundercracker mentioned it was your bedtime,” Ratchet explained, seeming to take the way Starscream’s wings had eased back down as permission to step inside the room and let the door close behind him.

“Of course he did. And?”

“Annnnnd,” Ratchet drawled as he walked towards Starscream, hips swaying from engex and perhaps a little something purposeful, “I’m pretty sleepy.”

Starscream’s expression creased with confusion.

“What?”

Ratchet sighed with exasperation, as if Starscream were the idiot here.

“It’s _your_ bedtime and _I’m_ tired,” he explained as he walked right up to where Starscream was sitting and swung a leg over his lap with surprising dexterity, settling himself easily and heavily over Starscream, as if he belonged there. “So why beat around the bush?”

Starscream was quite sure his optics were wide and bright considering the way they colored Ratchet’s too-close face pink.

“Are we fragging?”

That brought Ratchet up short as he pursed his lips, helm tipping to one side with thought.

“Maybe in the morning?” he said finally with a small shrug. “See what sounds good then. But for now, no. Just recharge.”

Large, powerful medic arms wrapped around Starscream’s shoulders and Ratchet leaned his face down until it was nuzzled into Starscream’s neck, causing Starscream to _feel_ the pleased little ex-vent that slipped past the armor plates to warm the wires beneath.

Starscream had to admit, it took an embarrassingly long time of having a mech who was far too heavy to act like a lapdog draped over his frame to fully piece it all together.

“You’re here to sit on me and recharge.”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Realized I missed having a good night’s recharge,” Ratchet mumbled. “Your stubborn aft reminded me how nice it is, so take responsibility.”

“Are you seriously suggesting you can only sleep well while sitting on me?”

“It’s hard to recharge when it feels like I should be doing something. When I’m sitting on you, I’m doing something, ‘cause then your high-strung aft has to relax too, so it’s easier to recharge.”

Finally, Ratchet lifted his helm from where he had pillowed it, blinking at Starscream blearily.

“Does that make sense?”

Starscream pursed his lips, weighing his options. He _did_ need to get back to work, but he also desperately wanted to milk as much blackmail material out of this as he could.

Also, no doubt due to some terribly conditioning Starscream hadn’t realized was happening while recovering, his frame _was_ completely lax under Ratchet’s weight and recharge did actually sound nice to his recharge-starved frame for the first time in weeks.

Frag.

“Unfortunately, yes.”


End file.
